


The two characters play

by Skadia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas being a tenessee williams fanboy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Writer Castiel, alternative universe, discovering each other again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skadia/pseuds/Skadia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel writes for himself, all writers do. <br/>They also all write for one special person. Some call them their muse, Castiel just don't call him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The two characters play

Writing was a solitary occupation for Castiel. Five to eight hours a day alone in front of his screen, with characters and sentences filling his head. Five to six days a week. For a year. 

It was his definition of heaven. Even in the deep hours of writer’s block. Even when he got stuck in a situation he never planned. Even when his characters tried to act on their own against his will, it was fulfilling.

  Then came the hardest part. It wasn’t the plot. Nor the title, nor the summary (his editor would take care of it). The hardest part was oppening the door to the finished work and let everyone see and read it. Criticize it. Judge it. Love it or loathe it. The public was the hardest part. 

It had to start with one person. Castiel wrote essentially for himself. But once the last sentence finished he had to take a moment, still alone at his desk, and ask himself a question he ignored for a year now : “Who am I writing for?”

And the answer came painfully this time as he wrote the very last sentence of this book. The one on the front page. Just before the title. The dedication.

 

***

The bookshop was always quiet. Kind of quiet actually. There was always a little jingle from the door and the whispered “welcome” of the cashier, there was the rustle of pages, the little “thump” of a book bein put on a pile. Dean liked this athmosphere so much he spend most of his lunchbreak in here, reading one page or two, making mental notes of books to read later. 

“Hey” Said Sam softly. “I think you should read this.” He was holding a book with a dark cover. Something like a meteor shower above the picture of two people hugging each other next to a big shiny car. But all Dean saw was the author’s name. It came from a long time ago. So long ago it was almost like a dream now. His heart skipped a beat. 

“He did it…” Whispered Dean amazed. “He really did it.”

Sam nodded. “And he’s good at it. If he’s not on the New York times best sellers list by the end of the year, I swear I’ll shave my head and sell this bookshop !" 

A few steps away, a girl gasped in horror then turned bright red behind her book when the brothers looked at her. 

"Don’t ever do that !” She giggled. I was impossible to know if she was worried about the hair or the bookshop, and Dean laughed so hard he was still crying when he came back to the office, the book still in his hand. 

***

Strike everything he ever said about the dedication being the worst part. The signing, the press conferences, the people were far worse. Castiel smiled to the first few then got overwhelmed by the crowd and just kept a straight face for the next hours signing copies of his book. 

He missed the quiet days spend writing it. There was so much noise now… And his jaws hurt from being clenched. But it was part of the contract. The paragraph about “ promotion” that he never took time to read before signing. 

At the end of the day, he made a mental note to avoid signing as much as possible. Fans were… It was so incredible to have fans… people reading his work, loving it enough to come and see him sign their book… But it was just a little too much for Castiel.

He decided that he hated it by the second day and then all the promotion was an endless misery spend missing his computer and his quiet apartment. 

 

***

Dean was stuck on the dedication. It took him a second to read it. One minute to catch his breath, and what seemed like the rest of the evening to get over it. 

The first three chapters were interupted by this unique line taking him away from his bed, to some memories far away from today. Memories of them two, young and stupid and full of impossible dreams.  He had to stop by the fifth chapter to reread the dedication one more time and give himself time to think about it. Think about the overcrowded shelves in Cas’ college room. Worn out copies of his favorite books and a shelf of copies in pristine condition. He took time to remember the sleepy plans they used to make for two. 

“I’ll travel” Used to say Cas, eyes glued on the big map hanging above his desk. “All over Europe like Tenessee Williams.”

“You look like him." 

"I look nothing like him.” Protested the young man. Dean still remembered the exact tone of his voice. “But if I had only a percentage of his talent, I’d be happy.”

“Be happy now. I think you’ve got talent.”

“You say that only to get in my pants.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

The memory alone made Dean smile. He wondered why he left not so long after? Ah.. right… college tuition. Having to work besides his classes to pay for his education then have a job later. Time passed, they barely saw each other untill the only thing left for them to do was break up. He kept a straight face and Cas simply nodded. 

“Hey… Cas…” Dean still remembered the bright blue eyes, full of determination and remembered thinking that Cas was telling himself to be strong and not to cry over this asshole. “For what it’s worth, if our life was a novel, I wish we would meet on the very first page, and never stop before the word "end”“

Cas had smiled. "I guess we’re writing this word right now.”

“Goodbye Cas.”

“Goodbye Dean.”

The memory was more bitter than sweet and Dean kept reading, pushing his feelings aside like he used to. The end of the book was also the end of a sleepless night and Dean struggled to get out of bed, shower and get back to work. 

“How did you find it ?” Asked Sam at lunchtime.  Dean did not answer. The dedication kept singing in his head. _"To Dean, because we used to be forever"_

 

***

Dean was fidgeting in the line, waiting for his turn to see Castiel. There was people chatting all around him but he was too lost in his own though to notice anyone. One by one, people got their book signed and Cas did not even look up to him when it was Dean’s turn. 

“Who’s for?” Asked the writer in a low voice. Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He had spend years trying to forget this voice and almost succeeded. Almost. Everything came rushing to his mind. How this voice used to be the first good thing he heard in the morning, how this voice whispered words of love in his hears, ho this voice used to be his everything. He swallowed.

“Dean.” The gruffy voice made Castiel raise his head to look at the reader. Dean was a common name. But not with this intonation, not with this voice. And most certainly not with those eyes. It all came rushing in Castiel’s mind. How this man used to be his everything. Enough to dedicate him his first book. Enough for never forgeting how wonderful it was to be in love with him.  His hand trembled as he opened the book, the corners of the pages already torn, one of them missing from being turned too quickly.

“Did you like it ?” Asked Castiel. 

“Did you like writing it ?” Castiel raised his eyes at him again and the ghost of a smile lit up his face. 

“It was painfull at times.”

“It was painfull to read at times too.”

Dean did not bother reading the dedication before turning his heels. Then, after a second, turned again. Castiel was still looking at him, ignoring the girl in front of him. 

“Did you do you big travel in Europe ?” Asked Dean.  Castiel smiled again.

“I did. I’ll tell you about it.” Dean shot him a curious look but Castiel was already signing the girl’s book and he left the bookstore, perplex, his heart still fluttering in his chest.

It was only after coming back home that he looked at the dedication. The handwriting was steadier than before.  _“Now, circumstances are different. If you wish, you may call me.”_   There was a phone number under the phrase just above Cas signature and Dean smiled. He had his phone in hand even before realizing it and dialed the number. 

“Hey. It’s me. Again.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Took me an hour to get home, and roughly five minutes to call you.” He did not wait for Cas to answer. “ The longest part was wainting ten years to see you again.”

“We made our choice back then.” Said Castiel softly. “We tried to do the smartest thing.”

“I was dumb to leave you.”

“And I was stupid to let you go.” Replied Castiel. “Maybe we should share our mistakes at a diner sometimes?”

Dean smiled. “ Are you asking me out mister Big Famous Writer?”

“Are you saying yes mister whatever you are now?”

“Of course I’m saying yes.”

 

***

“Why did we break up ?” Asked Dean suddenly.  They were halfway through their diner and everything went perfectly well. They talked about their lives like two old friends, like they did not use to be each other’s sun long time ago. 

“Because college, obligations, student loans.” Said Castiel. “Because we were young and trying to be wise over our age. We tried to do the right thing back then. And it takes time to realize you’ve made a mistake.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Five years.” Said Castiel. “Two boyfriends, one girlfriend, one dog. Nine hundred love songs. A thousand pages I rewrote three times.”

“Your book is only four hundred pages." 

"Most of the rewriting job is cuting off everything that’s irrelevant to the story.” Smiled Castiel. “ The first draft was a thousand pages long.”

Dean said nothing for a while, chewing his food, then: “It took me two days. Then I started missing you like hell. Took a whole year to stop thinking about you all day. Two more to stop asking myself how you were doing right now. Then you wrote… You wrote ” forever" in this dedication. Why?“

"Why?” Castiel looked surprised.“Why did I write "forever?”

" You know the sense of the words,Cas, you know their meaning, it’s your job, it’s your passion. Why this word and not another?” 

Castiel put his fork neatly beside his plate.  “Because I was in Key West.” He said. Dean knew this tone. It was the tone Castiel used when he was about to count him a story. Bedtime stories they used to call it, that lulled Dean to sleep before a big exam or after a stressfull day. “Where Tenessee Williams lived for a long time. I had hopes that the vibes here could help me get the strengh to actually put myself into writing a real novel, not some shit for a newspaper.” He stopped to drink a little, his hand shaking slightly. “I’ll never be like him. I don’t have his talent, I don’t have his background. But the love, Dean, the love he shared with Frank Merlo, I had it once. It was the start and the outline of my book. Their story was… It was… they held each other as much as they could, even after they broke up, Tennessee was there for Franck. And I started to think about you again. About how you were the only person I would go back to if you were sick and dying. So, I took every memory I had of us, of the time we shared, created a character based on us, and I wrote.”

Dean had nothing to say. His heart was racing as Castiel spoke.  “We’re not the main character in the story, because our story is behind us. We ended up long ago and I honestly think that, as painful as it was, it was the right thing to do. But you’re a part of my history, a part of my past and that won’t change. That’s why I wrote "forever”. “ Their plates were replaced by deserts but Dean did not bother eating it.  

"You’re like him."He said softly. ” You’re like Tennesse Williams. It was already true when we were in college, but now you really remind me of him. You remind me why I was so in love with you back then, why it was so hard to forget about you.“

Long time ago, Castiel would have cringed at these words, or brushed them away with a gesture of his hand. But he took the compliment with just a smile and noded. 

"I never forgot about you.” Said Dean again. 

“Me neither, but you already knew that.” 

Dean smiled. “Circumstances being different, it would be my pleasure to stand with you like Frank stood by Tennessee."

  "Minus the cancer?” Asked Castiel

“Minus the cancer.” Smiled Dean. “ Maybe minus the house in the Keys too. And the drugs and the drama.” 

Castiel looked surprised. “ How do you know about the drugs and the drama?” Dean did not reply but Castiel had his answer soon enough. In Dean’s appartment, in his room, his hallway, his living room, piles and piles of books. Long shelves up the stairs of the duplex full of hard covers. And Castiel's book, neatly put on display on the nightstand. Among them, every play ever writen by Tenessee Williams.  “I love his freedom. And his fears.” Said Dean softly.  

“You loathed him ten years ago.”

“I was stupid ten years ago.” 

*** 

_“To Dean, for as long as it last. And after."_   Dean smiled and kissed Castiel on the neck as the writer typed the very las words of his second book. This time, the side character was the main one, and Castiel had a lot of adventures planned for him. Enough to fill the new bookshelf above Dean’s bed where there was curently only one book. But many more to come. 


End file.
